


Duality

by GeeLiz_98



Category: EXO (Band), SHINee, SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Blasphemy, Extended Metaphors, First Meetings, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Religious Content, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26722648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeeLiz_98/pseuds/GeeLiz_98
Summary: The last place Jongin expected to meet a man as beautiful as sin was a church. And there is much more to Taemin than meets the eye.Or: a very elaborate metaphor with a touch of filth
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Lee Taemin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	Duality

**Author's Note:**

> Catholics may proceed with caution.

The pew was cold and uncomfortable on his behind. He fidgeted about awkwardly in an attempt to sit on the edge of his cheek where the wood wouldn’t dig into the protruding bone which earned him a withering glare from his mother. In some churches, they had cushions. Why didn’t this one have cushions? 

In any other situation, wearing a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt in the height of summer would have been perfectly appropriate but not in a church; the lofty ceilings, stone walls and tiled floors made trapping in any heat nigh on impossible and even in the sweltering humidity of late July, the church possessed a certain coldness. Both spatially and emotionally. 

When Jongin’s parents had suggested moving from the Korean church to the local Roman Catholic one, Jongin had wondered if it would relieve some pressure from his shoulders. They didn’t know anyone, he would no longer have  _ ajummas  _ asking him about his future plans, his relationship status, or overfeeding him out of love, an affection which transformed itself into one of Jongin’s greatest gripes: they smothered him as the only son in his family, barely leaving him space to breathe. 

This church was way worse though. It felt lifeless. It was the sort of church that takes the whole ‘Catholicism’ thing very seriously whereas the last church was equal parts about community as it was about God. And here, he could understand everything the priest was saying and it didn’t bode well for his feelings of discomfort. His navigation of the Korean language was elementary at best so he understood very little past the greetings to the congregation in his old church. Here, in clear English, he understood every last word. 

It wasn’t as though any of the teachings of the church were a shock to him, really. As a 25-year-old, he wasn’t so sheltered as to have missed the controversies and areas of contention that the Catholic church held dear but he had never before heard it all laid before him in such a straightforward way. 

Growing up he always knew that there were fundamental expectations ascribed to him, things that would one day be demanded of him: the first was getting a good education which he did, the second was finding a girlfriend and settling down, and the third was having a child. 

For the first 18 or so years of his life, these expectations were unquestioned by Jongin. He had never once entertained the fact that he may not want these things for himself! In fact, the homogeneity of the world around him, the fact that all of his friends had similar lives laid out before them, and the fact that all of the adults in his life had traversed that exact same path, had all led Jongin to believe that these things were what he wanted, too. 

By the innocent age of 13, he had it all planned out. He would get his degree in medicine (he had always wanted to be a doctor. Possibly because his grandfather was but he was never quite sure). While he was at university, he would meet the woman of his dreams, they would fall in love and he would never look back. 

He wound up degreeless and without a woman on his arm.

In his mind, this imaginary woman never had a face. He had never imagined what she would be like, nor had he ever formed an identity for this mystery woman based on the traits he admired in other women or girls his age. He had  _ never  _ admired a girl in that way. He didn’t know what he would even want in a future wife. Would she be tall, short, smart or funny? Not once did he consider any of these things. But he never questioned this. At that age, he was far more concerned with playing sports, hanging around with his friends; there was no need for girls in his life because he didn’t feel that there was a gaping hole in him which a girl could have filled.

This is not to say that there wasn’t a hole at all. 

It was difficult, Jongin supposed as an older and wiser person, to know that he was missing something when that thing never even existed in his small world. 

But when the missing piece walked into his life, he knew straight away what it felt like to be complete. 

His name was Kyungsoo. Well, that was the name Jongin was allowed to call him. Everyone else in their secondary school had to call him Sam but Jongin was special. He knew things about Kyungsoo that nobody else knew. 

He knew that Kyungsoo’s favourite film was Beauty and the Beast while everybody else thought it was Spiderman. He knew that Kyungsoo’s favourite singer was Celine Dione when no one else did. He knew that the innocent and pious alter boy hated church but went to please his mother. 

Jongin also knew that Kyungsoo liked boys. Kyungsoo showed Jongin that sometimes, boys pine after prince charming and not the princess at the ball. It didn’t take long before Kyungsoo became the prince that Jongin longed for, the boy he dreamed of when he closed his eyes at night. Kyungsoo’s face became the one to replace the woman in his eye’s mind. He became the missing puzzle piece Jongin had no idea was ever absent. 

The two boys never really had a proper high school romance. Neither boy was particularly interested in assigning more meaning to what was already special to them. They still had a...unique bond, however. Friends aren’t known to hold hands on shopping trips, or to kiss behind the school building “just for practice” when everyone else had scuttled off home, after all. 

Those moments were incredibly special to Jongin and he would forever hold them dear to him. There were times, when he lay awake at night, his head filled with conflicting emotions about what was right, wrong, what he wanted for himself versus what others expected of him, that he wondered if Kyungsoo was his first love. 

If not his first love, Jongin was certain that Kyungsoo was the one to teach him what love was. Kyungsoo showed him the reason why the woman of his dreams was so hard to manifest. Though he no longer pined after the man, he knew that every man he ever pined after since was thanks to him. 

He couldn’t help but wonder where Kyungsoo was now. Last he’d heard, Kyungsoo had moved away for college, never returning to go to church or possibly even to visit his parents. Then Jongin had seen something crop up on his mostly-deserted Facebook account, the profile of a man called Chanyeol Park, the owner of a book shop in Seoul, in the profile picture was a tall man with his arm wrapped around the waist of much older, smitten Kyungsoo. 

Jongin wondered if he would meet his Chanyeol. Or his Sam. Or his John. Or his-

“Francis!” 

A voice shouting right in his ear made Jongin jump out of his skin, practically leaping off the bench and 6ft into the air. 

He craned his neck to look at the loud culprit and was met by the form of a short elderly white woman. She was dressed in her Sunday best, a large broach reflecting the light in such a way that it half blinded Jongin, and wearing an obscene amount of perfume. It seemed she had been talking to Jongin’s parents if their fake smiles were anything to go by. 

She turned to look at Jongin with kind, wrinkled eyes and explained, “the only other young man at the church is Francis. You have to meet him! Don’t want you to feel left out!” 

The woman pointed to a young man, facing away from them. From the back, all Jongin could make out was his oversized shirt, so large that the cuffs covered his hands in a way that was ridiculously adorable, the tightest black jeans, and black and white Doc Martens. His hair was jet black to match. Jongin didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone so cool or attractive in a church before, and he was yet to see his face. The thought of being attracted to a child of God in the house of the man himself made Jongin antsy. 

The young man seemed to be finishing off his conversation with a young couple before turning around. What Jongin saw made him gasp. 

The man - Francis, Jongin supposed - was breathtakingly beautiful. His plump lips stretched into a dazzling smile which spread straight to his eyes. His black hair framed his slender face perfectly, tucked behind one ear only to reveal a line of piercings from the top of his ear to the bottom, silver loops ending in a dangling cross. 

When he began to walk over, Jongin’s breathing ran away from him and his palms began to sweat. What if his parents could tell what he was thinking? What if the overbearing old lady was watching to see if his eyes dilated in the other man’s presence? What if her hearing aids allowed her to hear his throbbing heart?

By the time the man was standing in front of Jongin and his parents, Jongin swore the room was spinning. He needed to either get a grip or get laid before he popped a boner in front of a priest. 

“Ah, Francis,” the old woman cooed, “I want to introduce you to...sorry, dear! I didn’t catch your name there!”

“Oh, erm,” Jongin’s throat felt like sandpaper and he choked on his own spit. A quick glance at the handsome man nearby showed him that he was still smiling, apparently oblivious to Jongin’s inner turmoil, “I’m Jon- ah...Kai.”

The old woman turned to introduce the two young men but was cut off before she could.

“Nice to meet you, Kai!” the gorgeous man had an equally gorgeous voice, “it’s about time we had some more young blood around here.”

The others all laughed, clearly infatuated by this man but Jongin could barely remember how to blink. He sat in stunned silence while the cause of his inner turmoil introduced himself to Jongin’s parents, in fluent Korean which would have boiled Jongin’s piss at any other time. The old lady was very impressed. 

He was so very polite. Butter wouldn’t melt. He talked about the church youth group. He talked about his work: a dancer, apparently. At that revelation, Jongin looked closer at his figure and liked what he saw. He certainly had the poise of a dancer if the positioning of his feet and the litheness of his limbs were anything to go by.

“Hey, Kai?” Jongin snapped out of his trance to face the other man, “you want to help me carry some stuff over to the church hall? Think of it as your induction.”

The desire to refuse was immensely strong. There was no way Jongin could even  _ look  _ at him let alone hold a conversation with him for as long as it took to head out of the church, cross the road, enter the hall…

“Sure!”

_ Shit.  _

  
  
  


A few moments later, Jongin found himself in a dark, empty hall holding hymn sheets precariously in clammy, shaky arms. 

“Where should I put these?”

The other man dropped the papers on a table along the wall before shrugging, “doesn’t matter. Nobody needs these, they’re for recycling. The recycling bin isn’t in here.”

“So why did we j-”

“What’s your name?” The man turned to face Jongin with his arms crossed, his shirt now rolled up to his elbows, revealing a small heart-shaped tattoo on his inner arm, “like, your real one.”

“Jongin. B-”

The man smiled, his eyes speculative as he inspected Jongin closely. Then he headed over, invading Jongin’s personal space slightly but not seeming to care. 

“Taemin,” he reached to shake Jongin’s hand and Jongin prayed to God that he wouldn't notice how clammy his hands were. He let go without even acknowledging the sweat, and nodded his head towards a back room, “come on.”

Jongin followed him without question, completely drawn to him and the way his hips swayed as he walked. If he didn’t keep his mouth closed, he would absolutely drool. 

They entered into a pokey room, furnished only with a small desk and an old office chair. 

“This is where the magic happens,” Taemin announced with outstretched arms, as though he were revealing something far more spectacular.

“What magic?” Jongin couldn’t help but sound judgemental as he flicked a piece of paper on the desk with his finger, his face unable to shield his grimace. 

Taemin snorted in amusement, clearly finding a joke where one was not intended. 

“Nothing, to tell you the truth, Jongin,” he said and the way he spoke Jongin’s name made the other man shiver for reasons he could not explain, “I said in the last parish meeting that I thought we needed a youth ambassador so I got an office!” 

Jongin could only nod in reply, not entirely sure what to say to that comment, rolling over in his mind what this information told him about Taemin. What kind of devout Catholic lied to the church just to get a crappy desk and a pinboard that probably hadn’t been replaced since the 80s. 

The pair stood there in a charged silence which left Jongin unsure as to what sort of “induction” this was supposed to be. He was starting to wonder if he had been tricked into being locked in a tiny room with a crazy man, in an empty building where no one would find them.

There was something about Taemin that Jongin found rather unnerving if he was being entirely honest with himself and it wasn’t only the attraction he felt towards him, either. 

On the outside, the other man appeared to be completely unassuming; a polite boy, loved dearly by the entire parish, kind to old people, and more than a little bit accommodating. He had a kind smile, kind eyes, and the cheeks of a cherub. 

But in that room, in the dim light filtering in from a small window protected by metal mesh, there was another layer to him that began to bleed through. 

The way Taemin carried himself as he stood there, staring at him, made Jonign as though he could see through to his bones in a way that made the young man feel naked in his presence. His eyes were intense and dark, the kind of eyes that rested before a powerful and calculative mind. The gravitas of Taemin’s mere presence caused Jogin’s pulse to sky-rocket. 

“Can I ask you a question,  _ Jongin _ ?” 

There was an intensity behind the question which made Jongin nervous. Taemin’s words held a certain weight which pushed down on Jongin’s chest. These were the words of the real Taemin, not Francis from the church, whoever he may have been.

Jongin replied with a pathetic nod. 

“Why have you been staring at my ass since I was talking to your parents?” The way his lips quirked up and his eyes turned calculating as he spoke was utterly carnal. There was an animal inside of this man and it was awakening the beast inside Jongin. 

“I-I haven’t...why would I be looking at your a-?”

“Ah!” Taemin cut him off with a tut and a wagging finger, “now, now, Jongin it’s naughty to lie. Why don’t you tell me the truth, hmm?”

He encroached upon Jongin’s space, inching closer and closer until Jongin could practically taste his breath. He stared into the eyes of an angel but breathed in the soul of a man harbouring something much darker. More real.

“I’m not lying,” Jongin choked out, his throat closing up from the tension in his body. 

The other man didn’t say anything, not interested in humouring Jongin’s amateur attempt at subtlety. Instead, he reached across the negligible space between them and lifted Jongin’s chin upwards with a surprisingly strong index finger, adorned with silver rings up to the first knuckle, forcing Jongin to look down at him from above.

“You think you’re the first gay boy to walk through those church doors, Jongin?” 

Jongin supposed he had never really thought about it that way. Logically, he knew he couldn’t have been - after all, he knew Kyungsoo and there must be plenty more Kyungsoos in the world. Far less Jongins, perhaps. Far less who hang around once the exit door is propped open for them. 

“I,” Jongin froze. Was Taemin one of those men who chose to stick around? Or had Jongin been backed into a corner that he couldn’t get out of, “what do you want from me, Taemin? I don’t want any trouble.”

Out of nowhere, Taemin burst in hearty laughter, a sign of the man from the church creeping back into his smile. He dropped Jongin’s chin, exposing a new crick in the back of Jongin’s neck from the strain, and rolled his eyes in amusement. 

“No, no, Jonign,” he let out between chuckles, “you’ve read this wrong. I’m not trying to be the angel on your shoulder right now. I’m not leading you  _ away  _ from temptation. I am  _ categorically  _ the devil in this situation. There’s something I want from you,  _ Kai,  _ so while we’re alone, why don’t you tell me what we both already know.”

Brain suddenly shortcutting, Jongin had no idea what to say. In his wildest fantasies, he could never have conjured up a scenario in which he was being propositioned by the church golden boy without so much as lifting a finger. It was rather... _ terrifying _ , if he was honest, that Taemin had read him so easily, without a shadow of a doubt in his mind.

Then again, that is what they all say, isn’t it? It takes one to know one. 

“Come on, Jongin,” Taemin pushed some more, “I know the devil is in here, too…” he prodded Jongin’s chest directly above his heart. 

Without a second of hesitation, Jongin grabbed onto Taemin’s shirt and dragged him with the strength of his whole body flush against him and rested his hands over his slender hips.

“Fine,” he whispered in Taemin’s ear, feeling the other man’s breathing speed up, his body shivering with anticipation. “I was staring at your ass. You looked so fucking sexy standing there in that church. I thought I was going to jump you right then and there.”

Taemin elicited an involuntary moan, pathetic and blatantly unexpected and he gasped, “that’s so  _ sinful _ , Jongin.”

“Not as sinful as your thighs in those jeans,” in a moment of madness, he licked a stripe across Taemin’s throbbing jugular, “and I don’t need tempting, Taemin,” he leaned back to stare directly into Taemin’s blown out eyes, “because this isn’t my first tango. Nor my first church boy.”

Taemin quirked his eyebrow in what Jongin decided was a display of how impressed he was. Taemin may have been a walking dichotomy but Jongin also knew a thing or two about the duality of man. Two could play that game: an innocent boy with an awful secret 

A single heartbeat was all it took for both of them to take the plunge, crashing their lips together with immense force, so much force that Jongin was edged backwards to fall against the wall. 

No longer needing to hold his own weight, Jongin lifted his leg and wrapped it around Taemin’s own, drawing him in even closer to the point where even a hair couldn’t pass between them. 

The kiss was clumsy and messy at first. They weren’t used to the motions of each other’s bodies, unsure which way to tilt their heads, what a comfortable rhythm would feel like. But it didn’t take long before their lips slotted together perfectly, as though each lip was crafted by God for this exact moment, like individual puzzle pieces intended to be slotted together like this. Like their lips were made for each other. 

Taemin wasted no time before prising Jongin’s mouth open with his tongue, allowing them to taste each other, to share their breath until they were so in sync, so in time with one another that they could have been one entity. Good, bad, angel, devil, all in one body. 

After what felt like a lifetime and a millisecond simultaneously, Jongin moved his attention away from Taemin’s mouth and to his neck. Luckily, the size of his shirt meant that it had already fallen from his slender shoulders, leaving the sensitive area exposed for easy access. Jongin kissed the area tenderly, tracing patterns along the curve of Taemin’s neck, over his shoulder and down to his arm, all the while pushing his growing bulge into Taemin’s inner thigh in the hopes that he would take the hint. 

Taemin’s head flung backwards from a jolt of pleasure as Jongin licked over a particularly sensitive spot. 

“Oh my, Jongin,” he hissed, barely able to get the words out, “you do surprise me. What a miracle you’ve been, barging in on me like this.”

Jongin couldn’t help but smirk as he bit down on Taemin’s shoulder as a sign of thanks. 

“You’re not so bad, yourself.”

“Quite the charmer,” Taemin reached his hand down in between their sweaty, hot bodies and dragged the ghost of a finger over Jongin’s bugle, impressed by the way it pushed against his tight trousers, “although, not to insult your aforementioned experience, dear but,” he grabbed the bulge and began to pulsate his hand agonisingly slowly, “you aren’t going to get me off by licking my arm.” 

The comment made Jongin laugh in surprise so that he paused what he was doing and rested his head on Taemin’s shoulder, Taemin resting his own head on Jongin’s shoulder. 

“Sorry,” Jongin spoke, the end of the word swallowed by a moan, “can I unzip your trousers?”

“Yes. In fact, I absolutely demand that you unzip my trousers before I bust out of them.”

Jongin didn’t even entertain Taemin by making a comment about his dick size and instead undid the zip and dipped his hand under the waistband of Taemin’s jeans. He began to eagerly palm at his erection. Taemin did the exact same until they were a mess of moans, sweat, some tears of pleasure and all-consuming heat. If the room just so happened to be on fire, neither man would be surprised. For more reasons than one.

“Kiss me, Jongin.”

Their lips met once again, far more carelessly this time, both of them far too focused on their ever-approaching high to coordinate their mouths as effortlessly as before. 

The force of Taemin’s hand caused Jongin’s body to pulsate, inching away from the wall and crashing back into it in time with the throbbing of his heart, in time with his erratic breathing. 

“I’m going to come,” he squeaked as his every muscle contracted with as much force as they could muster, ready for a full-body release. The blood rushed past his ears and the only sensation he could register in that moment was white-hot pleasure. 

“Go on then,” Taemin egged him on, his hand unabating in its movements even though he was inching towards his own climax, “do it. Do it as though He isn’t watching.”

And Jongin did. All over his boxer shorts, choking out a moan as he did so, losing all control over his body. He flopped down off the wall, only still standing because of the leg wrapped around Taemin’s own. He felt weightless. He felt as though he had died and gone to heaven. 

Jongin was partially aware of Taemin taking control of his hand and the pair of them brought Taemin to his own end and both of them collapsed onto one another in exhaustion. 

“Wow.” 

“Tell me about it, church boy.”

Delicately, as though they hadn’t just engaged in such a filthy act, Taemin rested his hands on either side of Jongin’s face, wiping away a spot of perspiration, and kissed him effortlessly. The tenderness of the act was a shocking contrast to their antics mere moments ago. 

They were totally wrapped up in each other, coming down from their high together. That was until Jongin thought he could hear voices. 

“Oh no!” Jongin spat out in a panic, “I can hear Him! He’s coming to get us!”

Taemin grimaced at him like he’d grown a second or sixth head, “who?”

Jongin leaned into Taemin’s ear and whispered, as though it would make any difference, “God.”

Despite Jongin’s evident panic, Taemin found much hilarity in such an absurd suggestion. He pushed Jongin’s shoulder away playfully and began to head towards the closed door. 

“It’s not  _ God,  _ Jongin,” he grabbed onto the door handle and turned around with a cheeky grin, “it’s the entire parish. Tea and cake time!” he announced this with a lick of his lips as though he hadn’t just revealed to Jongin that they’d both gotten off with the entire church body on the other side of the door. 

“What!?” Jongin screeched in utter horror, frantically zipping up his jeans and pulling his shirt down over his now-flaccid dick, all arousal zapped out of him as the voices in the hall got louder. 

Taemin chuckled innocently as if nothing were awry. 

“Let’s see if the nice old lady is here, shall we,  _ Kai _ ?” 

There was nothing on earth Jongin would rather do less but he was given very little choice when- 

“Ah! Kai! Francis!” the old woman called from over by the tea station, “come and join us!”

“Speak of the Devil,” Taemin quipped with a wink. 

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I don't really want to explain the symbolism in this because it ruins it and also...I really did labour the whole duality thing so I'm sure it's relatively straightforward...I hope. I changed Taemin's Catholic name because I feel Francis is a bit less elaborate. Taking liberties I know I knowIknow. I am Roman Catholic so any incidental commentary is from my own personal experience. I will not be accepting criticism at this time. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Follow me @yeoloutof10 on twitter for more waffling. 
> 
> Take care and stay safe!!! xxx


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